Earlier this year I read Steven Manchester's novel Twelve Months. It was a nice read (full review is here) so when he asked me to feature his new novel, The Rockin' Chair, I agreed to share an excerpt on the blog. The book is released today so if you like what you read you can now purchase the novel. Enjoy!
It was a bitterly cold Saturday morning when friends
from far and wide came to pay their respects. Everyone who knew Alice adored her and
equally loved her grieving husband. The McCarthy’s tiny field of granite was
filled with mourners. As the preacher spoke, an eerie silence filled the frozen
air.
“The Lord blessed each of our lives with the gift of knowing
and loving Alice. Now He has taken her home to be with Him. Those who remember
her, who loved her, walk with heavy hearts today, but we must also remember
that Alice has been freed from the heavy chains of this world. She now walks
with the Lord and shall dwell peacefully within His house for all eternity.
Until the day we meet again...”
The preacher’s kind words were carried on the icy wind and
John listened carefully to each one. Amidst them, a thousand memories reminded
him of why he felt such loss. A thousand more reminded him of the void that now
filled the desolate chambers of his heart. He stood rigid, conscious not to
sway, and nearly snickered when the pastor mentioned “forgiveness.”
While John fought back the tears that burned to be free, the
preacher’s drone drifted and became distant. John tried comforting himself with
his own thoughts, but the ache in his heart was worse than anything he’d ever
imagined. I’m nothin’ without Alice by my
side, he thought, and the pain made him want to join her.
The preacher continued to talk above the sniffles. John
glanced down at the scarred earth where friends had dug the hole. Beside his
parents, Alice’s pine casket was about to be committed. A roll of old burlap
covered the hole, while a mound of dirt mixed with snow sat behind them.
Interrupting his own prayer, John questioned the Lord. Why ain’t there another hole dug beside her, Father? It don’t make no
sense. It ain’t natural for Alice to be layin’ here alone.
John understood the cycles of life and had always been as
comfortable with death as he was with life, but putting Alice in the ground
alone was a tough one. I got no purpose
walkin’ this earth without my wife matchin’ every step. God, how I wish I was
layin’ right there beside her in our eternal bed. He became entranced in
the fantasy.
Shoulder-to-shoulder, Hank, Elle, Evan and Tara stood across
the casket from the old man. In his most difficult hour, Grampa John needed to
stand alone and they respected him for it.
Elle rubbed Hank’s back, comforting her husband and ignoring
her own pain. She loved Alice too. In fact, for years she loved her like her
own mother. Then, when the illness took hold and caused the kind woman to live
more in the past than the present, Elle loved her like one of her own children.
Either way, the depth of the love never changed. At the end, though—just before
Alice passed on—Elle prayed for closure. Realizing the harshness of such hopes,
she wanted an end to everyone’s suffering once and for all. It had nothing to
do with loving her mother-in-law any less. It had to do with peace. Mercifully,
the Lord finally answered her prayers.
Denying herself the permission to mourn just yet, she
continued to rub Hank’s back and whisper things in his ear that only he could
hear. There will be time for me to cry
later, she decided.
Hank stared at the beautifully carved casket and played
the same reel of his mother over and over in his mind. He remembered watching
her slave away for years in the house. She washed clothes by hand, hung them
out and warned Hank, “You best stay clear.” Most of the time, he minded her.
She canned vegetables, never stopped cooking and was usually busy working on
one of her quilts. She was non-stop. Her routine was no easier than Pa’s, only
she was being monitored by the ghosts that watched from frames on the parlor
walls.
She was also in charge of haircuts and what a treat they
were. If Hank didn’t squirm and fuss, she’d rinse out the bowl when she was
through hacking him up and fill it with a few scoops of cherry Jell-O. Hank
loved rubbing the new fuzz at the back of his head, as he sucked the sweet
slime through his teeth.
Ma was also the self-appointed boss of hygiene. Every
Saturday for sure and sometimes once during the week—depending on how much dirt
had accumulated—she’d draw him a bath. Hank loved that old porcelain tub. It
was like climbing into a swimming pool, with lion’s claws holding up its
weight. Ma would leave him be for awhile, then call out, “Cover up your
privates. I’m comin’ in.” With strong hands, she’d wash his hair, all the while
complaining, “I swear there’s more water on the floor than in the tub!”
He could still see her sneaking dinner up to his room when
he was punished, never thinking any less of him for misbehaving; and the
wedding ring—from her own finger—that she gave Elle at the breakfast table the
morning after he and Elle had eloped. He would never forget the way she always
found time to talk, or better yet—to listen; and the ways in which she showered
his children with love. The list went on and so did the invisible projector in
his head.
Hank struggled to stop it, but the movie kept playing and
the emotions he fought to contain finally overwhelmed him. As Elle rubbed his
back, telling him, “It’s okay, hon, let it out,” the dam burst wide open.
Hank’s whimpers could be heard above them all. Although he was bawling like a
child, his embarrassment was suddenly replaced by another truth. This was not a
physical pain that he felt. It was his heart and it was breaking. It didn’t
matter that he was weeping in front of people. It don’t matter what anyone thinks, he thought. There was great
freedom in it.
Hank looked across the casket and noticed his father
standing strong. “Pa’s mask is still set in place,” he mumbled under his
breath. As Elle leaned in to hear what her husband was trying to say, he added,
“I ain’t ever been no match for him but it don’t matter no more.” For the first
time, Hank felt sorry for his father.
Evan listened to his father’s labored sighs and childlike
sobs. Like a contagious disease passed on by the wind, to his surprise he could
feel the man’s pain. With all the resentment he held toward his father, his
heart still bled for him. Looking to his side, it amazed him how pain could be
such a cohesive bond in bringing people closer together. The bottom line
was—they were family. Beyond their differences and hard feelings, they shared a
common love and the pain that came from losing it. He’d always thought of his
father as being lazy—in a fearful sort of way. Now, he just felt bad for him.
Evan realized that his love for his father was stronger than his own pride. He
placed his hand upon his pa’s trembling shoulder. Allowing his own tears loose,
his mind suddenly flashed Carley’s smiling face. His body shuddered at the
unexpected picture, and he realized that the woman he thought was his soul mate
had already become nothing more than a bad memory.
Tara huddled against her brother. As the pastor spoke,
her thoughts jumped from Lila to Bryce to the possible reasons Georgey didn’t
make it to the funeral. Her mind was everywhere and she felt a wave of anxiety
wash over her. Her life was in complete shambles, but looking around she
discovered that Evan had been right. She wasn’t alone. There was pain etched
into every face. All I want is a drink,
she thought. Her body craved it terribly. She looked across the casket and
noticed Grampa John’s mouth moving. He’s
whispering something to Grandma, she realized. That was it. She lost it.
Trapped in his own bitterness, anger and sorrow, John
stared at his wife’s coffin. Suddenly, Alice’s bony finger nudged him hard in
the back, causing goose bumps to cover his body. It’s her touch, he knew. I’d
never miss it. The strong smell of lilac wafted in the air. She’s tryin’ to tell me somethin’.
As if he’d been blinded for days, his eyes reached across
the casket and rested upon his family. He gasped at the sight of them. Quickly
studying each face, for the first time he could see the pain—and it wasn’t only
from grieving the loss of Alice. The entire family was broken. He could feel it
as plain as Alice’s message on his back. They were all slumped over from the
weight of the cross they each carried. How
could I have been so blind? he thought, kicking himself for missing it. If
there had been a second hole, he would have endured his own grief and buried
their pain instead. His concern had already shifted.
John continued to study their eyes. It was clear. The very
fabric of their lives had become stained and tattered. The look on the two
young ones only confirmed John’s beliefs of the world beyond the mountains. Like a cruel dream grinder, it’s chewed ‘em
up and spit ‘em out.
Their parents weren’t in any better shape. Hank could barely
stand, while Elle neglected her own needs—as usual—and tended to him. John felt
Hank’s pain and cringed over the doubts of being able to heal the one who
needed it most. He shook his head. The quilt
that Alice spent so many years on is unravelin’ at the seams, he thought. No wonder she kept pokin’ me until I opened
my eyes. While my squaw struggled so hard to remember her own life, her family
was all fightin’ to forget their own. He felt one more nudge in the back
and grinned. “I know, Alice. I know,” he said aloud. Others glanced nervously
at the outburst. John’s grin scared them more.
The preacher had just finished his sermon when John dropped
to both knees and spoke to his wife. “I see now, squaw. Seems I still got some
chores that need tendin’ to.” He placed his lips to the frozen casket and
kissed her. “You’re right, as usual. There’s some mendin’ to be done. So leave
the porch light on for me and I’ll be along when I’m through.” Standing slowly,
he straightened out his back and steeled himself for the chores ahead of him. I still got a few more miles to go, he
decided. And it looks like I’ll be
travelin’ all the way to hell to reclaim these kids. It was time to take
them back from the evils of society.
